


The stars go waltzing out in blue and red

by brocanteur



Category: Chuck (TV), DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairing, F/F, random crossovers for the win alex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-15
Updated: 2008-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-16 01:07:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brocanteur/pseuds/brocanteur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chance encounter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The stars go waltzing out in blue and red

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Sylvia Plath's "Mad Girl's Love Song"

Sarah Walker hated D.C.

Too much inside baseball—too many back rooms and side deals. Everywhere she turned she thought she spotted a NOC or, worse, a Langley bureaucrat.

At Langley, behind closed doors, they'd debriefed her on the Intersect and she'd answered candidly, all the while wondering why they'd bothered flying her in. Then they'd wheeled in the polygraph machine, and she'd known. They were more concerned with her than they were with Chuck. She didn't sweat the polygraph; she had little to hide and, anyway, she knew how to cheat.

"Well," the agent testing her had murmured. "Mercy." His drawl was terrific. "At least we know what to expect from you, Agent Walker." He'd smiled at her, all teeth; they were nicotine-stained and his gums peaked too far below the curve of his upper lip.

Then they'd patted her on the back, handed her a plane ticket home and offered no discernible explanation.

Her hotel had a bar, at least, which was suitable enough for lonely drinking.

She was on her way to a third dirty martini when a woman sat down two barstools over. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight knot, and she wore dark-rimmed glasses that made her look like a librarian. Albeit one with a great set of legs...

Sarah demurred; she'd had one too many martinis.

The librarian looked up and glanced Sarah's way, smiled. When the bartender asked what she was having, she answered, "Whiskey. Neat."

Sarah downed the rest of her drink and leaned to her left, closer to the woman. "Are you a librarian?" she asked, because she was feeling just a tiny bit silly. She wondered if Chuck was with his girlfriend. She wondered what they did together. Play video games? Watch sappy movies? "I'm sorry," she told the woman. With a shake of her head, she muttered, "What a stupid question."

The librarian took off her glasses, revealing a startlingly pretty pair of eyes. Her gaze was sharp, exacting. Appraising. "No," she said, smiling again. Great smile. "I'm not a librarian."

"No, you're not," Sarah retorted. "You're an analyst."

The analyst's smile faltered. "What makes you say that?"

Sarah shrugged. "I don't know. Call it intuition." She sighed. "I don't normally talk this much."

"My name's Diana," the analyst said.

Sarah thought to fake another name, but decided against it. "Walker, Sarah Walker," she said, before releasing a pained chuckle. "You see, it's a joke."

"I'm not an analyst, Ms. Walker."

"Sarah. Why be formal?"

Diana's drink arrived and she sipped it, very lady-like. "Sarah, then."

"Back to your job..."

"I'm not an analyst, and I'm not a librarian."

"A model?"

"Well, that's kind."

"Not really. Once you took off your glasses, it seemed like a natural progression. Librarian to analyst to model. What's your full name?"

"Diana Prince."

"Profession?"

"Are you sick of the guessing game already?"

Sarah tipped her head, pursing her lips. "Hm. Are you sure you're not an analyst?" she asked. Before Diana could respond, she quickly added, "Never mind. One drink and I'm too trusting; three and I'm more paranoid than usual."

"What makes you paranoid?"

"Life. My job. The people I love."

"You say you don't normally talk much?"

"No." Sarah paused to lick her lips. She briefly considered ordering another martini, but decided against it. Instead, she asked for water. "Your eyes are mesmerizing."

Diana leaned forward. A strand of hair fell loose across her cheek and Sarah could see her biting the plump corner of her mouth. "Have you eaten?"

—

A stomach full of gnocchi and good bread had Sarah feeling a little better about everything.

She thought that if Diana Prince was an analyst she was awfully good at her job, and if she wasn't then she was awfully interested in Sarah. "That's a nice suit," Sarah said. "A good cut. You must have a high profile job."

Diana rolled her eyes, but she was smiling playfully. She took another sip of her wine. She'd been sipping and sipping all night long, but looked as steady as a neurosurgeon. "We're back to that?"

"I can't help being curious. It feels like you know everything about me now, and I know nothing about you."

"Everything? Sarah, I know you had a lousy time in high school, and that the guy you're interested in is seeing someone else. That can't be everything."

Sarah was ashamed she'd told Diana about her reunion, mostly because, without the back-story, she came off as a whiner. "Tell me something about yourself," she persisted. "So we're on an even playing field."

For a moment, Diana was silent, as though she were searching her mind for relevant information—or making something up. "All right," she said, leaning close. Her fingers were splayed on the table, near Sarah's. "I do work intelligence, but I'm not an analyst. I'm military and, at the moment, my job is very, very boring."

Sarah's eyes widened. "You're kidding."

"I wish I was."

"Ha. What do you do, exactly?"

Diana shrugged. "I told you, my job's boring. I push papers all day." She cleared her throat and dipped her head as she took another bite of her risotto. Two more strands of hair fell across the side of her face and Sarah noticed for the first time a slight darkness beneath Diana's eyes, as though she'd been having trouble sleeping.

"Are you staying here?" Sarah asked.

"Uh, no. I have a place—not too far from here—but sometimes I stop in for a drink."

Sarah took a breath. This wasn't usually how she approached people. Lately, she hadn't had the opportunity to approach anyone at all. "Do you look for company?"

"Not really, no."

"Were you tonight?"

Diana looked up. Her lips quirked as she hunched a shoulder and replied, "Have you sobered up?"

"I'm always sober."

"And lonely?"

"Aren't we all?" Maybe this wasn't a good idea, Sarah thought. Maybe getting involved in a one-night stand with a military intelligence officer had all the makings of _disaster_ , but Diana seemed straight-forward enough, and beautiful and... "Are you tired?"

Diana nodded, reached for her wine and polished it off. "Yes, but not how you mean."

"You don't know what I mean."

Diana's gaze was inscrutable for a long moment. Finally, she said, quietly, "Show me your room?"

—

They walked close together, not quite touching, until they reached Sarah's room and Sarah fumbled with her purse, looking for the key card. When she found it and reached to slide it into the door, Diana's fingers wrapped around her wrist, momentarily stopping her. Before Sarah could turn her head, Diana was already leaning in and kissing her cheek. It was such a tender, surprising gesture Sarah almost dropped the card. But then Diana released her, and Sarah could breathe again. With less than steady fingers, she opened the door.

The room was dark, and Sarah didn't bother reaching for the light switch. She shrugged out of her jacket and dropped it on the floor before turning to press Diana against the nearest wall. Briefly, Sarah thought of her life back in Los Angeles, of all the things that were waiting, and not waiting, for her. She shook it all away, because Diana was solid beneath her hands. Solid and willing, her fingers soft as they caressed Sarah's jaw, the back of her neck. Sarah closed her eyes, swaying, and when she opened them again, Diana was staring back at her, gaze pained.

Sarah shook her head, reaching to undo the knot at the base of Diana's head. Her hair flowed past her shoulders in dark, undulating layers.

Their first kiss was soft, searching—parted lips sliding tentatively. Diana murmured, "You're lovely," against Sarah's mouth, and Sarah smiled, pushing Diana's suit jacket off her shoulders, moving to unbutton Diana's silky blouse. When she slid her hand over Diana's breast, feeling lacy curlicues on her palm, Diana's mouth turned greedy.

Inhaling sharply, Sarah gripped Diana's waist tightly as she stroked her breast. She wanted to tell Diana that she was grateful for this moment, that she'd _wanted_ so much without realizing, that she yearned and that, sometimes, she cried without knowing why. But, mostly, Sarah didn't want to say anything. She wanted to kiss Diana; she wanted to circle her fingertips along skin that belonged to another human being; she wanted to be drawn into a hungry embrace.

Clothes were discarded along the path to the bed, and when they fell onto it together Sarah was still wearing her underwear, and one shoe. She kicked it off, laughing, and Diana grinned at her, kissed her, and Sarah's heart ached for all she'd missed so long.

They made love in a hurry, touching frantically, as though they'd run out of time. Afterward, when they were wrapped up in each other, halfway asleep, they made love again, languorously.

Sarah, her cheek resting on Diana's belly, murmured, without thinking, "I wonder if you'd like me, if we really knew each other."

"I like you now," Diana replied, fingers threading through Sarah's hair. "I like you very much."

"Do you think we'll see each other again?" Sarah asked.

"Maybe. The world isn't so big. Would you like it if we did?"

Sarah nodded, sliding up the bed until she found herself in Diana's comforting embrace. She felt oddly safe. Almost loved. "You're right," she said. "The world isn't big at all."


End file.
